Something
by JoVos
Summary: Booth and Brennan have always had 'something' haven't they? I mean, with them it's always something.
1. Realization

**A/N – First fic. If you would be so kind as to tell me if I should keep going, I would greatly appreciate it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or any of the characters, I simply create my own storylines.**

**Chapter One: Realization**

The clicking stopped. Booth glanced up from the file he was holding. False alarm. She was still staring at the computer screen, apparently only stuck on something. Bones had been working on her book for the last two hours, and that was just counting the time he had been there. He assumed she was working on it long before he showed up. He wondered where she got the energy. She really was an amazing woman; beautiful, intelligent, determined, and totally dedicated to everything she did.

"Could you stop staring at me every time I stop typing? It's very distracting."

He jumped a little as her voice broke the silence that had settled comfortably around them. He hadn't realized he was staring at her while lost in his thoughts. "Sorry, Bones, but I'm starving. I mean it's already," he looked at his phone; "eight o'clock and I haven't eaten anything since lunch!"

"I'm quite aware of that," she replied coolly, "since you have reminded me of the fact five times already. I told you, you don't have to wait for me. I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way to the diner."

"Yeah, but that's just it Bones, even if you are 'capable of finding your own way,' I know you won't. You'll probably just sit there at your desk" – he mimicked her typing – "hackin' away on your computer until you're so tired that you trudge over and fall asleep on the couch. That's assuming you make it over here; you might just pass out on the keyboard. Either way, you spend the night in your office, _dinnerless_."

She just looked at him, her mouth twisting that way it does when she's thinking something over. It didn't take her long. "_Dinnerless_ is not a word," she stated.

Whether she believed that or not, Booth was relieved to see her shutting the computer down. "Oh sure it is, Bones," he said, standing up and switching off the lamp on the end table, "there's also _breakfastless_, something else you would have been if I'd left you here. So, let's get going."

She rolled her eyes as she gathered her paperwork into her bag. He opened her closet, choosing her long black coat over her green one, and replacing it with her lab coat that had been draped over the arm of the couch. Turning, he held her coat out to her and she stepped into it wordlessly, as if she was expecting it.

"What, no arguments against my alpha-male tendencies?" he asked teasingly.

She said nothing, just reached for her bag.

"Here, let me get that," he said, a little put off by her silence.

When she again said nothing, just turned to head for the door, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Aww, come on Bones! What's with the silent treatment? What did I do now?"

She turned on him, but her big blue eyes weren't angry, like he thought they would be, they were filled with simple determination, as if she was about to explain the process of nuclear fusion to a four year old. "You showed your dominance by distracting me from my work until I agreed to leave with you. It's only logical to assume that after an initial victory you would continue to assert yourself, which you did by telling me it was time to go and even choosing what I will wear. Combining that with the knowledge that an alpha-male thinks a woman is incapable of carrying her own things, or getting anywhere on her own, I remained silent because I am simply too tired to argue with you!" And with that she turned back around and strode through the door, leaving him standing, bag in hand.

He stood there, pondering her sudden defensiveness, thinking back over his every action and her every reaction. Suddenly realization hit and a smile came to his lips. He rushed to catch up with her, finally reaching her as she descended the front steps.

"You know, Bones," he said, putting his hand on the small off her back and growing surer of himself at yet another lack of protest, "you're not so good at acting, even when you're playing yourself."

"I don't know what that means," she said, using her trademark to sound nonchalant, but the falter in her voice gave her away.

"You know what I think?" he asked as they reached his SUV, "I think you're never too tired to argue. Your little display up there about your lack of objection to my _helping you out_ proves that. So you know why I think you did it?" he asked again, opening the door for her and waiting for her to climb in. She stood her ground. He leaned closer to her, resting his weight on the door. "I think you're starting to like my tendencies."

She scoffed, but a blush had started creeping up her cheeks. She inwardly cursed the bright lot light that she herself had petitioned for a month before.

He continued in her silence, "I think you didn't argue with me about what I did because you expected me to do it. You didn't say anything because you _liked_ it."

And for the fourth time that night, she put up no argument. She simply took his offered hand and climbed into the seat of the SUV, trying to keep a look of indignation on her now rosy face. She watched him chuckle to himself as he made his way around the front of the truck to the driver's side door. Damn. She _had_ enjoyed his subtle chivalry, and the realization of that in her office had knocked her silent. She, the independent and competent Dr. Temperance Brennan, had grown accustomed to, and even fond of her partner's alpha-male tendencies, and he knew it. Damn.


	2. As Well

**A/N- Sorry about the long wait. Don't you just hate it when life gets in the way? **

**Chapter Two: As Well**

He was holding the door open. That domineering, egotistical, insufferable, _charming_ man was just standing there, holding the diner door open. She sighed. It wasn't just that he was holding the door open, he had done that plenty of times, it was the fact that he had hurried past her to open it, and was now staring straight ahead, as if to try to hide his obvious smirk. Well, she had brought this on herself. She had two options here; she could make one last attempt to disprove his earlier hypothesis and refuse to enter the diner, or she could suck it in (is that what Angela called it?) and accept Booth's newfound wisdom. A chilling wind made her decision for her. Raising her chin, she strode past him and into the warmth of the restaurant.

"You're welcome, Bones." He made a point to say, as he slid into the window booth across from her.

She ignored him, turning her attention instead to the approaching waitress. He waited while she ordered an iced tea and a simple pasta plate. He went with a Pepsi and the steak special, rare. He didn't miss his partner's eye roll.

"What? I told you I was hungry, and when I'm hungry, I have a steak. That's what I do, that's what guys do." He defended.

"That's a very big generalization, Booth."

_Finally, she speaks to him. _He fished for more, "That's all you've got to say on the subject of healthy, all-American boys ordering up a bloody steak when they're hungry?" He knew he was baiting her, but he couldn't help it.

She knew he was baiting her, but she wasn't biting. He'd had enough payoff for one night, so she just shrugged her shoulders. She caught a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with determination.

"So, am I in your new book too? I just ask because I know I was definitely in the last one, but things between Kathy and Andy were kind of rocky."

"I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out with the rest of the world."

_No go. What else? Ah- ha! _"Yeah, sure, no I get it, can't let the secret out." Pause for a charm smile, then, "oh, speaking of secrets getting out, did I tell you my buddy, Lenny, from the office is getting married?"

He was graced with only a head shake. Fine, if she wanted to play that way. "Yeah, Susanne, that's his fiancée, was working over at the office too, but she resigned a couple weeks ago. Something about Lenny wanting kids, and how both of them can't work. They're great though, I'm sure they'll be really happy."

She was pretending that she wasn't really listening. He knew this because even though she was glancing around the diner and slightly nodding her head while he spoke, her posture had stiffened and an angry blush was making an appearance on her cheeks. Hey, he wasn't called a 'Special Agent' for nothing. Still, her silence was really starting to bother him. He tried another route.

"So, have you got anymore of those intermember ossiation teaching lectures coming up?" This one would have to get her. She spent a whole week telling him that _intermember ossiation_ didn't exist, but she was, however, giving a lecture on _intramembranous ossification. _She even made him repeat it as if he was in elementary science class.

"No, I don't." Short and to the point. Brennan was quite proud of herself.

"Did you hear what I said, though? I said _intermember ossiation_." He repeated his mispronunciation, almost nervously.

Brennan saw his determination quickly turning to desperation, but why? Wasn't he always telling her to be quiet, and that she didn't have to argue with every little thing he said. Wasn't he the one who always got flustered when she corrected him? But, here he was, antagonizing her, trying to get her to do all those things, almost as if he wanted her to, almost as if….and that's when it hit her. Dr. Brennan wasn't as oblivious as everyone thought she was after all.

Their food arrived and she still hadn't acknowledged his last question. He stared at his plate, feeling disturbingly disoriented. After staring for what felt like ages at his food, he decided on a course of action. He was going to look her straight in the eye, tell her if she wanted to spend the night in silence and brooding that was just fine with him, and then proceed to chow down on his bloody steak, noisily.

When he looked up to do exactly this, however, he found her smiling broadly at him, doing some contentedly, if not noisily, chewing of her own. For some reason, this relieved him a bit.

"Enjoying your noodles there, Bones? You know, if you're still hungry when you're done, I wouldn't mind sharing with you." His confidence was back now, her smile had that effect.

"I know what you're doing." She said matter-of-factly. "You're trying to get me to fight with you."

"What? I am not, that's ridiculous. I'm just trying to make conversation." His tone was incredulous, but his rapidly moving eyes and hands said otherwise. "That's what normal people do. Why would I try to pick a fight with you?"

She leaned back into her seat and studied him for a moment while she took a sip of tea. Finally, she met his eyes. "I think you expect me to fight with you."

It was his turn for silence. She continued, "I think you were trying to get on my nerves because you _like_ when I fight with you."

"Bones," he tried to get his upper hand back, "you really shouldn't try psychology. I wasn't trying to pick a fight; I was just trying to talk to you about things I am interested in. That's all."

The waitress arrived with their bill. He reached for it, but Bones beat him to it.

"Bones, come on, I'll take care of it." She was still grinning at him.

"Oh no, I'll get it, you should save your money for Lenny and Susanne." She tucked the bill beneath her plate and reached for her purse

"Who?" he asked, confused.

"Exactly." She said triumphantly, slapping the money on the table and standing.

He mentally slapped himself. He followed her to the door, listening to her laughing softly to herself. Damn. He _had_ been trying to get her to fight with him. He, the noble and always right Special Agent Seeley Booth, had grown to enjoy sparring with his infuriating Bones, and she knew it. Damn.


	3. Flaws

**A/N – I have no excuses for the looooong delay in posting except that I guess I was just trying to figure out where I was going with it.**

**Chapter Three: Flaws**

She didn't snore. He always figured that with everything else about her being so cool and collected, she'd at least have this one flaw. But, she didn't. She even made uncomfortable dozing in a car look perfectly comfortable. He glanced at her as he stopped for a red light. One arm was tucked across her stomach; the other supported her head as it rested on the console. Her legs were crossed toward him and her white feet stood in stark contrast with her dark pants and heels.

It struck him as funny that while he wore crazy and outrageous socks, she wore none at all. He briefly wondered if she had any accessories of her own that helped her to deal with her "anger issues" as Gordon Gordon would call them, and he chuckled softly when his eyes fell on her bulky necklace. He dismissed the idea though, pressing lightly on the gas as the light turned green, thinking that if she had any such issues; she would simply voice her concerns.

She was still asleep when he pulled into the lot at her building. He shut off the engine and looked at her again. She stirred slightly, her body sensing the cease of motion. He really didn't want to wake her, even for the short walk up to her apartment. She had spent forever hunched over her exam table and even longer over her computer. She had to be exhausted.

Making up his mind he unbuckled her seatbelt before getting out of the truck and circling to her side. After gently opening her door, he first slipped her purse onto his shoulder, and then gathered her into his arms. She was unsurprisingly light. He made it all the way into the lobby before protest began.

"What do you think you're doing?" A scowl had stolen over her previously serene features, but she made no move to get down.

"Aww, Bones, I was trying not to wake you up!"

"So you thought _carrying_ me wouldn't wake me up? Booth, I'm not a child." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Booth stepped in.

"Bones, I didn't give it that much thought, I just thought you wouldn't wake up, okay? I guess I didn't take into consideration that you're apparently a very light sleeper."

"So you _carried_ me?" She still couldn't really wrap her mind around it.

"Yes, Bones, jeez. It's not that big a deal. You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you up, and so I carried you. That's it. That's all."

"I'm awake now."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"So why are you still carrying me?" He looked down at her, still snuggled in his arms and unceremoniously dropped her lower half from his grasp.

"Thank you" she said coolly, her hands snatching away from his arm where she instinctively reached out to steady herself, and moving to smooth her shirt.

"No problem." He smirked at her. They stood there silently, side by side, watching the numbers light up. She glanced over at him to find him still smiling to himself.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothin'." With that smile.

"It's just that I like to be able to do things for myself." She defended.

"Oh, believe me, I know;" he stepped a little closer to her side, "it's just that sometimes, I like to be able to do things for you." He waited for an inquiry and was surprised when it didn't come.

"Oh."

The elevator reached her floor and the doors slid open. She stepped off first, with him following hesitantly behind, not quite sure why he was still he was still going to her apartment now that she was awake. She reached the door and turned to him, her mouth smiling, her eyes smirking and he faltered even further. _If he could just find one thing, one little flaw, it wouldn't be so hard._

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I have my purse back?" He started and hastily removed the purse from his shoulder. She took it from him, leaving him standing there awkwardly.

"Do you want to come in for something to eat?"

"Bones, we just left the diner."

"I know, and I couldn't help but notice that while I was enjoying my pasta, you barely touched your food." She said, laughing lightly. He made to tell her he was fine, not wanting to explain why he hadn't eaten much after practically dragging her from work, when as if on cue, his stomach growled.

"You know what Bones? That would be great." She rolled her eyes and opened the door, gesturing him past her. He shrugged his jacket off, watching her toss her keys onto the table before removing her own jacket. He turned toward the kitchen.

He was busily looking through her cupboards when she joined him.

"Bones, you know you really should have more than bare cupboards if you're going to offer someone something to eat." She just smiled and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a white to-go box. "Ah, what have we got here?" She popped the lid to reveal a burrito.

"See? I would have been just fine without you dragging me to the diner. Do you want it warm or cold?"

"Cold's good. And there's still the question of whether or not you would have eaten the burrito without supervision." He gave her a pointed look. She just smiled knowingly.

"Come on, you can eat it in the living room."

"Whatever you say, Miss Independent."

"I'd prefer Dr., or even Ms."

"Of course you would." He plunked down on the couch, sighing as he noticed the still vacant wall where a flat screen would fit so nicely.

"You're wishing I had a TV aren't you?" She asked from behind him, handing him a beer.

"Maybe just a little." She moved to sit at the other end of the couch, curling her knees to her chest and snuggling up to the cushion of the back.

"Tired there, Bones?"

"Maybe just a little." And they just sat there like that. Him eating his burrito, her resting against the couch with her eyes closed. They sat for so long in silence, he figured she must have fallen asleep. _How would he know? She didn't even snore._

"Why?" Her soft question startled him.

"Why what?" He asked nervously sipping his water, although he knew what she was asking.

"Why do you like to do things for me?" Her voice housed genuine curiosity.

"I told you," he said, still not looking at her, "they think they get away with it, but you don't let them. You keep going and you keep pushing until you're all worn out, but you find something, and you deserve something for that." He finally met her eyes.

"Thank you, Booth." She said softly, and then playfully nudged his knee with her foot as she let herself slide down to rest on the arm of the couch. He shot her his charm smile and a wink before diving back into his burrito.

Soon he heard her breathing even out, and took that as a non-snoring hint that she had actually fallen asleep this time. He sighed, caught in his earlier pickle: carry her to her bed, or wake her up? He let his eyes roam over her again, taking in how relaxed she looked, again he made up his mind. He stood as quietly as possible and took the now empty to-go box to the garbage can. He stared down at it for a minute, feeling guilty that he had made Bones go to the diner, where she paid for their food, when she had a perfectly fine burrito at home, which he had proceeded to eat. He stealthily made his way into the living room again, checking her sleeping form before slipping a twenty dollar bill into her purse. He knew she would find it right away and insist he take it back, but it still made him feel better.

_Now the tricky part_. Determined, he went back to the couch and stood above her. Ever so slowly he reached towards her, intending to scoop her up, as he did in the car and take her to her more comfortable bed.

"Don't even think about it." He jumped backed. Her eyes were still closed, but her mouth was twisted in a grin.

"Not in a million years," he chuckled.


	4. Names

**Chapter Four: Names**

He calls her Bones. Ever since the day she met him, he had called her that. He had called her Dr. Brennan only once that day, a couple seconds after she had introduced herself. He had told her it was nice to meet her. She had merely nodded her head in response. All that first week he was Agent Booth. Despite her protests, she was Bones. Eventually she relented to calling him Booth. But she was always Bones, and only he called her that. Well, Parker did too, but that's how Booth had introduced her to him.

That's what Brennan found herself thinking about as she sat staring at the note she found open on her computer. She knew it was from him because of the salutation, not the closing. In fact, there was no closing, or signature for that matter. Yet, she knew it was from him simply because of that name he had given her so long ago.

Bones, I'll meet you at your place

around ten. Don't be late!

If the note had said 'Temperance' or even 'Dr. Brennan' she may have been alarmed that a coworker had gotten the wrong signal from her. As it was, she knew it was just Booth, squeezing time into their busy schedules to finish up paperwork. She sighed and glanced to the corner of her computer screen. 9:30. Well, she better get going.

As she made her way through the dark hallways she again found herself thinking about the name Booth had bestowed on her. Why hadn't she ever given him a nickname? Anthropologically speaking, nicknames are usually desirable, symbolizing a form of acceptance, but can often be a form of ridicule. She certainly accepted Booth that much was obvious, they were partners after all. She was also sure that Booth's choice of her nickname wasn't meant to make fun of her. It was more of a nod to her profession. So, if she were to choose one of him, it would confirm her acceptance of him, and she should choose one that credited his profession, just to keep everything equal. They were all about the give and take. Sliding behind the wheel she tried brainstorming.

_Cop?_

No, too generic.

_G-Man?_

No, everyone else called him that.

_Gut?_

No.

_Streets?_

No. No.

_Fuzz?_

No. No. No. This was harder than she anticipated. Okay, she could do this. He had done it in a matter of seconds. It couldn't be that hard.

_Blue?_

Hmm. That one wasn't so bad. It had a nice ring to it. Except Booth didn't really wear much blue, he usually wore black suits. In fact, she was the one that was usually in blue.

Just when she was about to give the whole thing up as ridiculous, she passed Oxford's Bakery and a thought struck her. She smiled. It was perfect.

--

When she walked through her door, Booth was already there, beer in hand.

"Bones, I told you, you gotta buy different beer. This Moroccan crap tastes like earwax." He made a sour face as he sat his bottle on the coffee table.

"And I've told you, Bobby. If you don't like my beer, bring your own."

"Ahh, see I knew you'd say that. Which leads to the question: Where is the beer that I brought last time so I wouldn't have to drink this crap?"

"Oh, I must have offered it to guests." She lied. "Now, if you'll excuse me a minute, I want to change before we delve into this paperwork." She made for her bedroom.

"Hold it! Hold it!" He grabbed her by the elbow behind the couch as she tried to scurry past him. "Number one," he held up his finger, "I know you drank it, the gut, remember? Number two," he added another finger, "did you call me Bobby?" She flushed; an answer in itself. "Okay, I'll drop the beer issue, if you tell me why you called me Bobby." She slapped his hand away from her elbow.

"What? I didn't." Why was she suddenly embarrassed about this?

"Bones, yes you did."

"Okay fine, I did." She didn't offer anymore.

"And?"

"And what?"

"May I ask why?" She looked at her hands.

"It's silly." She answered with a fake laugh. He had heard those words before. All he had to do was wait. "You call me Bones." She said, finally. Quietly.

"Yeeeaahh."

"Yes!" She said exasperated, coming around to sit on the couch. "You call me Bones and I call you Booth, but everyone calls you Booth and only you call me Bones!"

"Okay."

"Yes, so I called you Bobby, I gave you a nickname, like you did me. Because it was nice to meet you too, and I'll call you Bobby whenever I feel like it!"

"Okay, Bones, okay. Calm down."

"I am calm!" He smiled at her.

"What?" She asked defiantly.

"You wanted to give me a nickname?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"Aww, Bones." He nudged her shoulder playfully. "So, Bobby?"

"Yeah, you know, like a bobby." She said the last word with an English accent. He just smiled at her again. "You think it's silly, don't you?" She suddenly sounded extremely vulnerable.

"Actually, I was thinking that I wouldn't mind at all if you called me Bobby whenever you feel like it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Can I go change now?"

"Hey," he threw his hands in the air, "it's your apartment." She smiled and nudged his shoulder back before getting up and heading toward her room.

When she returned, they dove into the paperwork. It always went much faster when they did it together like this and tonight was no exception. Before she knew it she was walking him to the door.

"Well, sleep well Bones. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, tomorrow."

"Oh, Bones," he turned in the doorway, "don't forget…"

"…to latch the chain on the door, I know." She pushed his chest gently to shuffle him out the door. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Her eyes found his quickly, questioning.

"Just protecting your des res m'lady, and ensuring you a jolly good night." She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away. He laughed. "Seriously," he said, "goodnight Bones."

"Goodnight Bobby." She said softly before closing the door and sliding the chain into place.


	5. Days

**Chapter Five: Days**

It started first thing in the morning. The Crappiness. Yes Crappiness, with a capital C.

He had reached to slap the annoying alarm off, just as he did every morning, when he proceeded to slap his glass of water from the night before right off the bedside table.

"Damn it" he muttered. After successfully hitting the correct target, he pulled himself to a sitting position, and willed his eyes to open. When they did, they fell upon the paperwork he had been looking over and carelessly tossed to the floor. A floor that was now covered with water. "Oh, damn it!" he repeated, quickly scooping up the dripping files.

After spreading the papers out on the counter in an attempt to dry them off, he headed to the shower. Now, he had always considered himself a quick showerer, but an icy stream mid scrub that would not warm, no matter how far he turned the knob, had convinced him that he had set some kind of record. While trying to make a hasty exit from the offending shower, he caught his foot on the rim and tumbled forward, landing with a thud on his elbow.

"You have got to be kidding me!" he yelled to no one in particular.

Half an hour later he was en route to the FBI office. Of course, he was wearing a plain black tie and black socks, due to the fact that not a single colorful item could be found in his closet. _How does that happen?_ He was running late because he had spent too much time hunting for said colorful items and had only settled for black because he didn't think striped sock searching qualified as a plausible excuse for being late. This had also left him no time for breakfast and for some reason, his coffee pot didn't auto start as it usually does. _Oh well, he'd grab some at the office._

--

Frickin' Jimmy Doogan. Booth was certain he had purposely broken the coffee maker. So here he was, seven long hours into his day, and he had yet to have any caffeine of any kind. It wasn't as if he could jack some from the Jeffersonian, he had no excuse to go there. The case he was handed today was very meaty, no bones involved. He had already interrogated two couples at their homes, which in so many words, could have gone better.

On his way to the first, his invincible SUV had gotten a flat tire. The potholes were starting to get ridiculous. While changing it he had inadvertently wiped a streak of grease on his face. Of course, he was not privy to this fact until catching his reflection in his side view mirror, after the interrogation, mind you. No wonder they were looking at him so strangely. _Why didn't they just tell him he had grease all over his face? What kind of people don't tell someone that?_ He made a mental note to keep an eye on them.

After an eerily quiet ride to the next house he slammed his stupid plain tie in the door. _If he had to wear the boring tie, there was no way he was going to have it staid. _A brief wrestling match with the door ensued. He was not the victor; his tie actually ripped in half. He held his breath, counted to ten, then removed his tattered tie. He followed the walkway up to the porch, climbed the stairs, held and counted to ten again, then knocked on the pale blue door. This time he apparently was the victor. The door immediately fell away from his knuckles. It didn't swing away, no, it fell away. It landed with a resounding crack inside the house, leaving Booth staring into the eyes of two terrified children. _No way. _The rest of the interrogation consisted of the mother berating her children for their pranks while distractedly answering his questions.

Now all he wanted to do was escape to Bones's office and have a nice relaxing lunch. Alas, it was never to be.

"Booth."

"Charlie. What can I do for you?"

"Sorry Booth, I know you're not going to like this."

"Just tell me what you want, Charlie."

"We've got a mandatory organizational meeting." _Aww hell. _"You know how those go, not to mention the developmental paperwork we always get after one of these." _Repeat, aww hell._

"Thanks, Charlie."

--

He threw his keys on the table and hung his jacket on the back of the chair. It felt like he would never reach the couch. When he flopped onto it he felt his foot connect with something. There was a crash, then a something that sounded like a robot dying. He peeked over the arm of the couch. Parker's bubble gun. When he righted it bubbles started spurting out, hitting him gently in the face. It wouldn't shut off. _Of course._ He sank back into the cushions. The bubbles floated up and around him. A few popped on his shirt. He sighed and slipped it off.

"_Whoopwhoo!" _

_What the hell? Was that a wolf whistle? _He fearfully turned his head. Nope, not a wolf, a parrot.

"Oh shit." He was off the couch with the phone in his hand in under a second. He covered his head as a flurry of yellow wings flew into his line of vision. "Hello? Mrs. Johnson? Yeah, hi, it's Seeley. What? Oh no, thanks anyway. Listen, Mrs. Johnson, I think Hooter got out again." He ducked and dove behind the couch as Hooter came at him again. "Yes, yes, he's in my house again. What? Can't you just whistle for him or something? Yeah, I know it didn't work last time. Okay, no, I'll just keep an eye on him until he is ready to come home."

"_Bingo!"_

"Okay, no, it's not a big deal. But if I can get my hands on him I'll just bring him over. Oh no, of course not," Booth gritted his teeth as Hooter crashed onto his entertainment center, knocking numerous pictures onto the floor, "I won't hurt him. No, no you don't need to come over. I'll be very gentle, I promise. Okay, Mrs. Johnson. Uh-huh, no problem. Okay, I'll talk to you later." _Jeesh, that woman was hard to talk to_. He slowly stood and glared menacingly at Hooter.

"_Uh-oh. Cranky pants!"_ There was no way he could deal with this all night. He didn't care what he told Mrs. Johnson. He would catch that bird even if it killed him. Having learned from last time, he retrieved a face mask from Parker's room. It was pretty small, but at least it covered his eyes. In the kitchen he aired out a trash bag and tuned the radio to a big band station. For some reason Hooter found that music soothing. Crouching down he made his way around the counter and peered into the living room. Hooter was nowhere to be seen.

"_Ha ha, jackal man!" _From the hallway. _What the hell do they talk about at the Johnson's? _He belly crawled in the direction of the voice. _This is ridiculous! _Scratching noises were coming from his bedroom. _What is up with today? _He reached his door and unbelievingly prepared for another gateway contender. He burst through the door, flinging himself upon the bed. In addition to big band, Hooter also had a strong affection for Booth's pillows.

Booth was fast, but Hooter proved faster. He took off down the hallway in a flurry of feathers, and by now, bubbles, screeching as he went-

"_Run! Madman! Run!"_ Booth was right behind in his entire parrot catching glory, slipping and sliding along the wooden floor, brandishing his trash bag, trying to be heard abovethe clatter of the radio as he shouted obscenities at the devil parrot. Upon re-entering the living room, something made him skid to a stop.

Temperance Brennan stood in front of his coffee table. In one hand she held a large paper bag; in the other was her usual canvas bag. The expression on her face was something akin to the one she had when he shot the clown on the ice cream truck. They just stood, gaping at each other.

"_Pretty lady!" _Hooter glided toward Brennan and perched gracefully on her shoulder. She slid her eyes from Booth, to the bird, and then back again.

"Hey look at that," Booth shouted, finally regaining his voice, "you got him." She just stared at him, her gaze only shifting to follow a line of bubbles that had just spurted from the gun. He pushed off the mask off his face and escaped to the kitchen to turn off the radio. When he returned she still hadn't moved.

"Booth? What is going on? I should tell you, I'm not exactly sure what to do right now and it's making me very uncomfortable."

"Its okay, Bones. You're doing just fine. Just hold still." Very slowly, he approached her and wrapped his hands, gently, around the bird.

"_Uh-oh. Fun's over."_

"Just give me a sec, Bones, I'll be right back and I'll explain everything." And with that he was out the door with the wretched Hooter, on his way to the crazy Johnson's.

--

Somehow she had stopped the bubbles. That was the first thing he noticed when he got back. Now she was sitting on her knees in front of the entertainment center picking up the fallen pictures.

"Oh Bones, you don't have to do that, I can get it. It's just that stupid bird got loose again."

"Yes, I deduced that quite quickly once you left. I just…" she stopped.

"Bones? You okay?" He knelt down beside her, hoping she hadn't cut herself.

"Where did you get this?" She turned to him, her eyes questioning. He looked at the picture she was holding. _Oh._ It was of her. In the desert. From the day they had helped Angela track down Dani. She was wearing an olive green, quarter-length button up cargo shirt. There were dangly blue and green earrings in her ears, and one of those chunky necklaces around her neck. Her hair was swept into a loose ponytail. Her bright, clear blue eyes were focused on something behind the camera. Just those eyes could tell you that Dani had been found. Even with all her grief, the artist in Angela couldn't resist the beauty that was Bones.

"I, uh, I found it." She raised her brow at him. "In Angela's office, there was just this pile of pictures sitting on the shelf and I was looking through them one day."

"I didn't know anyone was taking pictures." He nodded and silence lay between them again. Then, "But why do you have it? I mean," she reached for some of the other pictures, "these are pictures of Parker, your mom and dad, your brother," she shuffled through them as she read them off, " this is your family, Booth. Why do you have a picture of me?" She wasn't fishing, he knew that. She just wanted to know. But, how could he explain it? Explain how once he saw that picture, it made him smile so much that he didn't want to stop looking at it. How he had taken it without even telling Angela. How he had went out and bought a frame specifically for it, so he could set it here in his house, so when he had company and they asked, _Wow, who is this?,_ he could tell them that it was Dr. Temperance Brennan, his partner.

"Bones," he said, still struggling with what to say, "you're my partner and you're my friend," she nodded, waiting for him to continue, the picture of seriousness. Suddenly it was too serious for him, to déjà vu. "You're part of my squint family!" he laughed, nudging her shoulder and trying to lighten the mood. She smiled and he was relieved. She stood and placed the pictures back on top of the entertainment center. He watched her from the floor for a moment, transfixed, until he realized he heard music playing.

"I thought I turned the radio off," he said hopping up and heading for the kitchen. He stopped for a minute, "Hey, I love this song!" Bob Seger's _Night Moves _was playing from somewhere in the house, but it wasn't coming from the kitchen.

"Yeah, that's actually why I stopped by. Well, I brought us some food too," she said, gesturing to the paper bag "but, I found some old records in a box I was going through and I thought you might like this one. I was going to give it to you at work, but we didn't have a case. I put it on just to make sure it played okay."

"Aw Bones, you brought me a record?" he came to take the slip she had picked up from the couch and was now holding out to him.

"Yes, well I noticed you had a record player and I figured since I wouldn't be listening to it, you might use it. If I remember correctly there's a Foreigner track on there as well." She said the last bit with a smirk.

"You mean this was yours?" he asked, letting his fingers trace over the front cover.

"Yeah, it's the FM movie soundtrack. The movie actually starred a woman named Eileen Brennan, that's the main reason I bought it. It's silly now to think about, but I liked seeing my name on a record." She blushed at this and it was all he could do not to hug her.

"Thanks, Bones. I mean it; this was really nice of you." She just nodded in response.

"So, you hungry?"

"Definitely." They sat on the couch and distributed the food between them.

"I couldn't help but notice some rumpled paperwork on your counter." He winced. "You wouldn't happen to be having a bad day, would you Booth?" she asked teasingly. He looked at her for a second, hesitating before answering.

"Actually, Bones, I can honestly say that my day is going pretty good right about now."


	6. Nights

The washer was _thwumping _again. Brennan sighed and hauled herself up from her spot on the kitchen floor. She trailed her fingers along the wall as she made her way toward the little alcove, pleased when they came away clean. She couldn't be too upset, it was her own fault it kept going off balance. She knew putting both her comforter and her sheets in together probably wasn't the best idea, but she just wanted to get it done. She opened the lid and wrestled with the wet linen for a few moments. Hopefully that would do the trick. She closed the lid and waited as the washer started up again. When she was satisfied that it was balanced, at least for the time being, she made her way back to the kitchen.

The floor was gleaming. Well, two-thirds of it was anyway. She wasn't quite finished. Picking up the sponge she dropped it in her bucket of high concentrate chemicals, donned her gloves, and resumed the task at hand. When the kitchen floor was clean, she moved to the living room.

She dusted everything first. Her antique items got the feather duster. The furniture was hit with Pledge and a good old fashioned dusting rag. The glass was treated to Windex and a page from The Hill Rag out of the recycling bin. Then came the vacuuming. The move the couch and coffee table kind. When that was done she remembered her sheets and blankets and went to switch them from the washer to the dryer.

Once again in the living room, she surveyed her work. Immaculate. The kitchen and living room were shining. The bathroom was pristine. The guest room and her own bedroom were neat at a button, as Angela would say. The blue books for her anthropology class were corrected and stacked neatly on her desk. All the paperwork for their last case was completed and sitting on a desk somewhere in the FBI office, she assumed. The latest three chapters of her new novel had been e-mailed to her editor. It was Saturday night. She needed a shower.

She padded down the hallway into her room and grabbed her robe from where it hung on the back of her door. In the bathroom she turned the knob to hot and while she waited for the water to get warm she fiddled with the stereo until she found a good station. She turned the volume up to where she would be able to hear it over the spray of the shower.

When she emerged from the steamy glass case that was her shower, she felt refreshed. She shivered from the draft coming through the open door and slipped quickly into her robe. The hot air from the hair dryer sent another shiver through her when she switched it on, but gradually warmed her as she waved it about her head. Once her hair was dry she pulled on some pajama pants, a sports bra, and a t-shirt. She fished around in her drawer until she found a long pair of socks to pull on. Her bare bed reminded her that she still had one task to complete.

She returned again to the dryer to collect the bed linens. As she was making her way back to the bedroom there was a knock at the door.

"Just a moment!" she called. Depositing her load on the couch she went to the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Bones."

Booth.

"Oh." She twisted the lock and swung the door open. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Bones."

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, hello. What are you doing here?"

"No, you say hello, then ask if the person would like to come in."

"What if I didn't want the person to come in?"

"You don't want me to come in? Oh, is somebody here?" His gaze slid behind her.

"No, Booth. I just wanted to know for future reference. If there happened to be someone I didn't want to come in."

He smiled and stepped in. "Well, Bones, if that happens just open the door and ask them what they're doing here."

She smiled back at him. "But really, is there a body?"

"No, Bones, no body. Haha, get it? No _bones, _no body?"

Her face scrunched with question.

"Never mind. Look, I just came over to see if you were doing anything tonight."

"You could have called," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I was in the area anyway…"

"You were? Doing what?"

"You know, just stuff. _Are_ you doing anything?"

She pointed to the sheets and blanket. "I was just about to make my bed."

"Ah, see, I could help with that. It's much easier to make a bed with two people."

"You want to help me make my bed?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"You aren't busy….with anything else tonight?"

"Bones, why would I come here if I was busy with something else?"

"I have no idea, I find this all very odd."

"Well, come on, let's get to it." He shrugged out of his jacket, scooped up the sheets and blanket, and started toward her bedroom. Leaving Brennan staring confusingly behind. "Come on, Bones!" he called from the hall, "I told you it's easier with two people!" She hurried to catch up.

They did the fitted sheet, each pulling opposite corners, then the next sheet facedown so that when it was folded down the pattern would show. After putting on the comforter Booth started fluffing the pillows. "How come you didn't wash the pillow cases, Bones?"

"I - I guess I just forgot to put them in."

"You forgot something?!"

"It has happened occasionally."

"I'm just teasing you, Bones. Hey isn't this the pillow I used when I crashed for a couple hours on your couch the other week?"

"Crashed?"

"Slept, Bones."

"Oh, is it? I don't know, maybe I did get you one out of here."

"It has creepy little snails on it, I think I'd remember."

"They're not snails! They're spirals. And they aren't 'creepy' they're soothing."

"Well, whatever they are, it's the same pillow."

"I've already said that is completely possible." She looked a little nervous for some reason.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm fine. Thank you for helping me with the bed. Your hypothesis proved to be correct; it is easier with two people."

"Sure, no problem."

They stood for a moment, on opposite sides of the bed, just staring at each other.

"So," he finally ventured, "Are you hungry?"

She looked relieved. "Yes, now that you mention it. I am. Are you?"

"I'm starving."

She chuckled. "You are not _starving._" She started for the door. "But let's order something anyway."

"Okay, okay," he conceded, following her, "Maybe not starving, but definitely really hungry."

"What should we get? Thai?"

"Of course. What else?"

She smiled.

So did he.


	7. Tired

The day is like any other day. There's the alarm in the morning. The shower, the breakfast, the drive, the office. There's the skeletal remains found in the woods. The disbelieving discoverers. The lab, the squints. There's Bones.

But this day is also different.

This day, she is different.

She is still at home when he calls to tell her about the new case. She is still in her pajamas when he knocks on the door.

"Come in," she had said, "I'm sorry, I got distracted, I'm still getting ready."

"It's no problem, the bones aren't going anywhere."

And then she had just looked at him and her eyes where so dark and so full of _something_ that he could think of nothing else to say. Then it was gone. She turned.

"I'll hurry."

He wondered what could distract Temperance Brennan.

The victim was male. Thirty to forty years of age. That's what she had said, squatting there among the trees. African American, judging by the nasal passage. She inspected the throat area. She pressed her fingers to the skull. Her eyes swept over the lower body. She ran her hand through the dirt and leaves along the body. When she brought it up she had wiggled her fingers, letting what had collected there slip through the cracks. She said nothing. She stared, almost transfixed.

"So, everything back to the Jeffersonian?" He had finally asked.

She had tilted her face up to the sky so there was a pattern of light and shade across her face. She had sighed.

"Yes." She brought her head down and stood. "To the Jeffersonian."

_She's tired._

The lab had bustled as usual. Squints had scurried. The bones were lain out anatomically. Jack had made a joke. Angela had grimaced. Cam had cast a reproving look. Brennan was still in her office. Booth had turned to look for her and caught her figure. She was just staring at them through the open doorway. When she realized his eyes on her she averted her gaze and turned to lift her lab coat off the chair. Then she was with them.

But she had just stood there. No remarks on professionalism. No anthropological observations. No orders to interns. Just a slow blink, like she was looking at something that wasn't really there. Jack had frowned. Cam had looked questioningly at Booth. Booth had looked away. Angela had spoken up.

"You okay, Sweetie?"

She seemed to wake up, leaning over to pull some gloves from a box.

"I'm fine, Angela."

The gloves snapped around her wrists.

"Let's get started."

She had bent closer to the skeleton and as she did she had looked up and caught Booth's eyes. Once again they were so full that he forgot to breathe for a minute. Then the intern had made an observation about something on the foot. Her eyes had closed then, just for a moment and another sigh escaped her. She turned to the foot.

_She's just so tired._

There had been searches and interrogations. There had been lies and confessions. There had been arrests. But Bones had stayed in the lab, lingering around the platform, seemingly satisfied with accepting evidence and affirmations second-hand. And then it had been done. Case closed. He had told her she had done good. She had smiled a small half-smile. It was the saddest smile in the world.

And so now here they were, silent in his SUV, on the way to her apartment to drop her off. She just stares ahead through the windshield. He tries to do the same, but his eyes keep sliding to her.

"Thank you," she says suddenly, "For driving me."

"It's no problem, Bones." He turned to give her a smile and found her already looking at him. His smile faded, just like her eyes had seemed to. "You doing something tonight, Bones?"

She turned her head back to the window. "No."

"You want to stop by my place first then? You know, get something to eat, maybe watch some TV and wind down a little? I can drop you after."

She hesitates a moment. "Alright."

He doesn't say anything, just turns the wheels in the direction of his house at the next street. He doesn't know why, but he feels like if he lets her leave him tonight in this funk he just may never see _her_ again. It was irrational, as she would say, but it was his gut.

Dinner consists of burritos from his freezer, five-minute rice from the cupboard and beer from the fridge. Seinfeld is on TV. It's the Pez dispenser episode. They eat and watch. Booth is surprised that Brennan is actually taking note of the show. As it goes into commercial break she says, "This is actually quite funny."

He smiled. "Pez dispensers make you laugh, Bones?"

She chuckled, "They will now."

"I can't believe you even know what a Pez dispenser is."

"I'm not oblivious to everything. For example, I noticed that nobody cares much about the Kramer character barging through the door the way he does. It's very contrasting with our society's mores that emphasize privacy and the traditionally customary action of knocking."

He sat his beer on the table. "Yada, yada, yada."

"I don't know what that means."

"There's the Bones I know."

"It's from the situational comedy, isn't it?"

He just started laughing. He couldn't help it. It was like all the tension in him from the day just broke and overtook him in the form of laughter. His eyes started to water. Then, amazingly, she was laughing too, just as hard as him. Every time they looked at each other or tried to speak another bout overtook them.

Finally it started to die down, until they both were just taking short ragged breaths. They're eyes met at the same time and he could see melancholy and confusion in hers just as sure as she could see them in his.

"I'm tired." She said.

"I know." Her eyes fell to the table, but he couldn't tear his away from her. "Come on," he said, standing and reaching his hand out to her, "You can stay here tonight, sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."

"Booth…"

"Come on, it's fine."

"But I'm still in my work clothes."

"I'll find you something."

She sighed and took his proffered hand, allowing him to help her off the couch. She followed him to the bedroom and went to turn on the bathroom light as he went in search of pajamas. He came up with an old black wifebeater and a pair of basketball shorts. She was going to swim in them.

When he held them out to her she only took the shirt. He raised his eyebrow.

"It'll be like a dress on me." She said. He nodded and put the shorts away as she disappeared into the bathroom.

When she came out he was pulling down the bedspread. "It's clean," he said, "So you don't have to worry about that. You inspired me." She smiled, but when she didn't say anything he took it as his cue to leave. "Alright, you get some rest; I'll see you in the morning." He said as he backed toward the door. She crossed the room to the bed. She was right; his shirt was like a dress on her, albeit a very short dress. He couldn't help but notice that her legs went on forever.

"You have a queen-sized bed, Booth; it was designed for more than one person."

"Are you saying I don't have to sleep on the couch?"

"I was making a statement about your bed, but indirectly, yes, I suppose you could infer that."

"But you have a queen bed too, Bones, and I sleep on the couch at your place."

"This is different, it's your house."

"Are you sure, Bones?" The bed was sounding much more comfortable than the couch after this day. Bones being there didn't hurt things either.

"I'm tired." She said, and with that she lay down on her side and pulled the cover over her.

He stared at her for a minute, making up his mind. Then he left the room and went back to the living room. He turned off the TV and took the dishes to the kitchen sink. He went to the laundry room and stripped down to his boxers. He hung his suit and shirt on the dirty rack. His socks went in the hamper. He eyed the spare blankets on the shelf above the washer and dryer. He switched off the light. He made his way back to his bedroom in the dark. There was still light coming from under the door. She was just as he had left her when he came in. _Maybe she wanted to sleep with the light on_. He slipped into the other side of the bed and put his hands behind his head. He would probably fall asleep faster if he stared at the ceiling instead of her.

"Goodnight, Bones." He said.

"Yada, yada, yada." She said, reaching over to switch off the lamp.

He smiled and wondered if there were any pig Pez dispensers.


End file.
